


Guilty Pleasure

by biifurcatedCoder



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Celibacy, Denial, M/M, Masturbation, Shame, Solo, The Vantascest is Implied, broken vows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-10 00:23:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biifurcatedCoder/pseuds/biifurcatedCoder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are some things he will never speak about</p>
<p>Karkat will never hear of this in any lecture or discussion</p>
<p>Porrim will never have him come to her to seek to relieve his guilty conscience on this matter</p>
<p>Kankri himself will never hear these moments come from his lips and echo in his ears, because saying them out loud would solidify to him the fact that they're real, and he can't handle that. Not now.</p>
<p>------ Solo Kankri with implied thoughts of Vantascest ------</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guilty Pleasure

There’s something about it that heats you to the core.

The second those long soft fingers wrap hesitant around your sensitive flesh your breath hitches and you could swear your undead pulse skyrockets to an unhealthy degree.

Your face feels like it’s burning, and you’re fairly certain your soul actively is burning. It’s depraved and shameful, so very taboo, and yet….

You’re totally getting off on it.

It’s your own hand, naturally. Heaven forbid anyone else ever touched you like this. You shouldn’t even do this yourself. Hell, the craving should not be there in the first place. You had your vows to keep in check.

But you still found yourself awake at night, locked away in the privacy of your own room, salty tears of frustration and shame on your cheeks, teeth buried against your knuckle and fist shakily tugging away at the hot, sticky mess between your legs.

It wasn’t as bad when it was just your body’s natural response to your thighs rubbing the wrong way or even a shift in the air around you that triggered your more… primal senses. No, the real shame came when his face came to your mind and stirred your body into action.

Shame on you. Too ashamed to admit to yourself that you had already broken your sacred vows with the aide of your own fingers as you arched and that hot torrent of crimson pooled and mingled with the sopor clinging to your warm skin. Too proud to set your beliefs aside and seek someone to tend to it for you.

So locked away you found yourself, curled upon your own forme, breath ragged and damp, skin glistening with sweat and body trembling as you fisted at your turgid organ desperately, pan lingering on the edge of a mental emotional breakdown.

You lick your lips, his vibrant eyes and speckle spattered skin bold in your mind as you arch again, crying muffled against your knuckles, and it feels like the walls have eyes and are all judging you for the shameful, depraved act you just committed in the dark of your room, but your blood is boiling and the exhiliration is too thickly mingled with the fear and anxiety for you to dare think. You can feel everything churning, and you know with your heavy breaths that you’ve become addicted.

Addicted to the taboo of it all.


End file.
